Smoke and Mirrors
by AlisonHarvey
Summary: Revised and reposted as To Sever Love From Charity
1. Encounters

Smoke and Mirrors  
By Alison Harvey

Summary: Long ago, Sarah chose her dreams over Toby, a trap she came  
to regret. Now, as a member of the Masquerade Court, she plans an  
elaborate revenge against the Goblin King. At stake is the crown of  
the Illusion Queen, mistress of Masquerade...

Author's note: Before you read any further, please understand that  
this is a J/S story--even if it sounds very different at first. Many  
thanks to my beta readers, Arianne and Kat, who convinced me that  
this idea would make a decent story. All characters and concepts not  
mine are...well, not mine.

@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Chapter 1: Encounters

The ballroom of the Masquerade Court was crowded tonight, and schemes  
were in full swing. Dancers filled every inch of space with swirling  
silk, velvet and satin, overlaid with chiffon, crepe and lace in  
wondrous quantities. It was the night of the blue moon, and the  
celebration was glorious. Gems sparkled liberally on every fine gown  
and well-cut jacket. Dance partners were exchanged with studied  
carelessness.

It was the night of the blue moon, where politics were usually set  
aside in favor of dancing. That never stopped the Masquerade Court,  
famous for their masked intrigues. Take away the masks, the people of  
other courts whispered slyly to their fellows, and half the fun would  
be gone. Despite the assumed casualness, power plays wove among the  
press of dancers: a nod to the left, a whispered word hidden behind a  
hand and an abruptly ended conversation testified to the game of  
Masquerade.

The ballroom itself was a study in deception. Stairs appeared and  
disappeared into nowhere, and periodically doors would shimmer into  
existence just long enough to allow a stranger entrance. Now and  
then, heralds announced late-arriving guests, but in the chaotic  
strands of music, titles had mostly been forgotten. Although the  
twirling parade of guests threatened at every moment to overcrowd the  
room, the seat of the Masquerade Court held its own. Innocent  
archways turned out to be gateways into nooks of jeweled hues and  
tables would flicker and disappear on the whim of its occupant. The  
air hung heavy with magic, giving the floating fairy lights the  
appropriate backdrop.

The dance of the Masquerade Court continued into the night, a  
counterpart of whispers and secrets playing to the harmony of the  
enchanted string orchestras. They were the people of deception, the  
never-ending game. They were the Fae who delighted most in the  
political structure inherent in a dance partner and the snap of a  
fan. For those of the magical race with a more pragmatic outlook, the  
nearby Labyrinth Court and its Goblin King beckoned. Those with no  
taste for politics might do well to seek out the Fire or Summer  
Courts, perhaps, where beauty and magical talent were favored over  
intrigue.

Masquerade was a jewel among the Fae Courts, made deliciously  
exciting by its mix of all races, magical and non-magical alike.  
Although it was but one of many courts in which the Fae entertained  
themselves, it remained a shining star in the aegis of the High King  
and Queen of the Underground.

Among the eternally young and beautiful dancers one woman spun, her  
hair a rust-red counterpoint to her pale green gown. She wore a dark-  
feathered hawk mask with a cruel ripping beak that seemed incongruous  
against her blushing cheeks and carmine lips. She flitted through the  
crowd with a smile and wink for handsome men and a respectful nod for  
those more powerful. Others she treated to the cold silence of  
disfavor. She was one dancer among many that night, but there was  
something to her imperious stance and confident movements that  
suggested high rank.

Under the truthful light of the blue moon, a certain falseness was  
apparent in the woman. In the cold blue light, the age-spots of the  
green satin were visible, and the glorious red-brown of her hair  
struck a false note against her complexion. Her pale eyes seemed  
raptor-like beneath her mask as she scanned the merry ballroom. It  
was the night of the blue moon, where deception was difficult to  
maintain. She was Lady Yasmin of the Masquerade Court, and she knew  
the significance of the chill light streaming down outside. Yasmin  
had chosen her dance partners carefully.

Upon spotting a blonde Fae woman in a startlingly bright blue gown,  
she broke into a warm smile. The other woman was dancing with a  
younger man, who seemed startled by the company he was keeping even  
as he listened attentively to what she was saying. There was a slight  
tension in his shoulders, despite the relaxed attitude of the female  
dancer.

Yasmin smiled broadly, signaling her friend with a quick twirl of  
her wrist. In response, the other woman came nearer, bringing the  
young man with her. She whispered something in his ear, and he turned  
slanted blue eyes on Yasmin.

"Yasmin," he said with genuine delight. "I was hoping I'd see you  
again tonight."

"My lord Jacopo," she said with a polite nod of her head. "I admit  
to coming in hope of dancing with you this evening. Could I possibly  
take you from the Lady Elise?"

Lady Elise grinned with the openness of an old friend, an  
appropriate description. She had known the younger woman since Yasmin  
had entered the Court nine years ago, and much of Yasmin's current  
influence could be traced back to Elise's careful lessons. A slight  
sagging of the skin at her neck and the creases in her brow above her  
mask testified to her age: Elise was Fae, but even the innate youth  
and glamour of her race could not conceal the effects of gravity  
accumulated during a long life. She was many hundreds of years older  
than her human friend, and proud of how she had turned a scared young  
woman into a jewel of the Court.

She answered Yasmin's question to Jacopo before he could, satisfied  
with their current plan.

"You can take him from me," Elise said lightly, "But I will hold  
you to another dance, Jacopo!" She winked at Yasmin where Jacopo  
could not see her.

The young lordling was flustered. Just barely into Fae adulthood,  
and caught between two powerful women, he clearly wanted to extricate  
himself from the older Elise to dance with the young and beautiful  
Yasmin. As a Court newcomer, he knew just enough to understand that  
to make this preference evident was dangerous, but he was too  
inexperienced yet to switch partners gracefully. He smoothed back his  
slicked-back hair nervously, catching his hand on the strap that held  
his summer mask in place, then ran his hand down his goatee with  
painful hesitation. Elise caught Yasmin's eye surreptitiously and  
deliberately repositioned her fan close to her chest.

Yasmin laughed and took Jacopo's hands in hers, waving a cheerful  
goodbye to Elise as she drew him into the waltz.

"Lord Jacopo," she said warmly. "How are you this evening? Are  
you not tired of the dance?"

"Please," he said as he readjusted his hand around her waist more  
comfortably. "You should know to call me Jacopo by now."

"Jacopo," Yasmin said cheerfully, slowing her steps so that they  
could better talk. "How have you fared tonight, then?"

"Well," he said, giving her a charming grin that he had been told  
made him look endearing. She seemed to move closer in response, but  
he was having difficulty telling the steps apart from her deliberate  
movements. "It was rather boring until Lady Elise rescued me, to be  
honest. She wanted to know whether or not I'd made a trip Aboveground  
yet."

From the cant of her head, he guessed that this interested her. His  
patience was rewarded when she spoke.

"Ah," she said, putting a wealth of possibilities into the  
statement. "So you've been Aboveground?"

"I have, milady," he answered, gaining surety as she twirled in his  
arms. Yasmin was very beautiful and she had let him dance with her.  
As she finished the turn she smiled at him, and he thought he might  
drown in her dazzling warmth. The promise this conversation held  
suddenly seemed endless. "Father thought that I should understand the  
rules of the court and the terms of mortal contact better before he  
handed over his duties to me."

"My goodness!" she exclaimed, and Jacopo was pleased with his clever  
and subtle words. The ability to breach the realms was one only a few  
of their kind possessed and he had reminded her of his power and his  
title in one neat stroke. "Your inheritance, Jacopo," she said, as if  
she was going to expound on it. Instead, Yasmin laughed. Although he  
could not see her eyes, he had heard she was beautiful beneath the  
mask. Looking at that full, firm mouth, he believed. "I can't believe  
it will be so soon for you!"

Yasmin always talked like this, full of exclamation and sweet  
giddiness. When she trickled her compliments from her perfect  
reddened lips, people believed that laughing voice. Jacopo smiled  
back at her.

"You must be so pleased," she continued blithely. The orchestra had  
slowed behind them to a slow song, and he suddenly realized how close  
Yasmin was pressed to him, clinging to almost every available square  
inch of his waistcoat. It made the conversation deliciously exciting  
as she tilted her hawk mask to him. "And how did you like the  
Aboveground?" she asked.

Disappointed that she had moved him away from the description of  
his titles and land, he nonetheless gave into her curiosity. "It  
was...certainly different," he said carefully, unsure of how to  
describe the strange world he had seen. "It's hard to breach, first  
off--not that I was tired at all in crossing, of course--"

She nodded gravely, and he congratulated himself for his quick  
recovery. "They use machinery of course, instead of magic, which  
makes it entirely different. It's a bit like the Dwarf Realm, I  
suppose."

"What about the people?"

He shrugged, enjoying the quickening pace of their steps and hoping  
she never moved from his embrace. "Not much to say. They never see  
the Fae, and they hardly believe anymore. There's no fun in it."

"Ah," she said, and he suddenly felt pinned by that hawk mask. "So  
you don't have much use for Aboveground women." There was something  
calculating in Yasmin's gaze.

He shook his head, suddenly unsure. Did he know the footwork for  
the latest tune the band was playing? It sounded foreign in his ears.  
"They're interesting, but certainly not like the lovely ladies of  
Masquerade." He looked at her with open longing, hoping she would  
understand his invitation.

"Mmm," she said, pursing her lips. "A trip Aboveground, your  
initiation in two months..." she paused slowly, stilling her steps to  
whisper into his ear.

"I believe you need a wife, Jacopo."

"Yes," he said eagerly. "My family has always married Masquerade  
women, you know."

She smiled slowly, her eyes glowing behind her mask. "So it's a  
woman you're seeking. That's why you've been to the Court so often!"  
She sounded very pleased with her discovery.

"Yes, of course, Lady Yasmin," he said patiently, waiting for her  
to answer his invitation. "But as you pointed out, I need a wife  
soon. My father told me not to come home without one, in fact."

"Oh dear. So my favorite courtier is pressed for time as well?" The  
tune had ended, and the dancers had started to drift towards the ever-  
full tables. She tugged at the sleeve of his doublet to lead him  
towards one of the centermost, and he eagerly followed. He hurried to  
catch up and link his arm with hers, but she settled instead for  
lightly touching her gloved fingertips to his as he led her to what  
he knew was his table.

"I was hoping you could help," he said before they could reach the  
rowdy throng. He held his breath as he waited for her answer.

"I'm flattered," she whispered back, sending his pulse racing. "In  
fact, I think I have a solution for you."

They had almost reached the table, where two empty seats waited.  
Jacopo recognized the Lady Elise, who was talking to an unknown young  
woman who wore a dark green dress with a fashionable low cut  
neckline. A cunning basilisk mask hid her face, but he was more  
interested in the woman on his arm.

Just short of Elise, they stopped, and suddenly he found Yasmin  
pressed once more to him, her arms thrown around his neck, bringing  
his nose down into the feathers of her forehead. Her perfume made his  
head spin.

"You want a wife?"

"Yes."

"And you think that I can help?"

"I wouldn't ask anyone else."

"Are you sure?" she asked coquettishly, and he laughed.

"I promise. I'm asking you now. My word and honor."

Yasmin smiled, and he noticed for the first time that her eyes were  
dark and kohl-rimmed behind her mask. "Your word and honor, sir. Then  
it is done."

Elation bubbled up through him, and it was only her arms that kept  
him close and not dancing in celebration. Vaguely, through his  
giddiness, he heard her voice whispering to him once more.

"Her name is Felicite, and she is the daughter of Eleanor's most  
senior lady-in-waiting."

Confused, he turned to see that she was referring to the basilisk  
woman. "Really? A lady of the Elf-Queen herself? I'm impressed."

"Good," Yasmin said. "She's perfect for you. As a Count of  
Labyrinth, you need ties to other courts. She's used to elves; she'll  
bring a touch of class to your manor."

He froze. "That's not what I meant." All the lightness drained, and  
suddenly her circling arms were a noose, strangling him.

"Your honor, milord, and your word. You asked me to find you a wife."

"That's not who I wanted," Jacopo said, frantically trying to  
extricate himself from the situation. He squirmed in her grip, but  
she held fast.

"Jacopo, really," she chided. "People will start to wonder." The  
high crest of her mask hid his reaction from the rest of the court,  
but his stiffness would soon cause a stir in the gossip-hungry crowd.

"I want you to marry me, not some elf-bred woman," he said  
determinedly.

"I don't marry."

"But I love you!"

That caused a reaction, but not the one he was expecting. She  
immediately extricated herself from his grasp, turning statue like in  
front of him. "Love has nothing to do with marriage. Or with  
Masquerade. She's good for you, Count."

Her sudden distance hurt him more than her polite rejection had,  
and forced him to consider what she had said. As a new lord, he  
needed ties to strengthen his personal domain. His father, the Revels  
Count, had been an isolationist, but the world of the Fae was  
changing. He needed trade ties. Revelia, a small province of  
Masquerade, had an abundance of ores and raw materials, but  
desperately needed finished goods. The daughter of an important lady-  
in-waiting to the Elf-Queen would give him a much-needed advantage  
when the annual trade negotiations with the elves came around.

She would also give his manor, as Yasmin had said, a touch of  
class. Yasmin was important in Masquerade, and very beautiful, but  
her political connections were unguessed-at and he had never heard of  
any particular dowry or title associated with her. No one had ever  
mentioned what gave her the title of Lady, but no one saw fit to  
challenge it, either. The marriage she had proposed to him, in fact,  
made perfect sense, with the exception of the fact that he wanted the  
woman on his arm, not the one even now laughing with Lady Elise. What  
made the whole deliberation interesting was that Yasmin herself did  
not want an alliance with a lord that would surely increase her  
social standing--her currency was not land-based, as far as he could  
tell, and to obtain a lord would give her legitimacy in the  
Masquerade Court.

The woman in question studied him with alert eyes. "Have you  
figured it out yet?"

"Why don't you want my title?"

Yasmin shrugged. "You'll thank me for this someday, soon." She was  
careful to leave a respectful distance this close to Felicite, Jacopo  
noted cynically.

Something else occurred to him. "How, exactly, will I want to thank  
you?" He had the satisfaction of catching a slight expression of  
surprise in her eyes before they returned to normal.

"Well, for now, I'll settle for you taking advantage of your  
connections to push for free trade between Revelia and the elven  
lands."

"This is what I would have done anyway."

"But just remember as you dance with your lovely bride-to-be  
tonight what I did for you."

As she drew him forward to meet the Lady Elise and Felicite, he  
wondered what it would cost him. However, Yasmin had already faded  
away, her presence dimming as he gazed at the basilisk mask and  
smiled charmingly. Instead, trade contracts and elvish considerations  
filled his mind as he bowed low to Felicite.

"I see we meet again, Lady Elise. May I ask who your lovely  
companion is?" 


	2. Suspicions

  


Smoke and Mirrors  
By Alison Harvey

Summary: Long ago, Sarah chose her dreams over Toby, a trap she came  
to regret. Now, as a member of the Masquerade Court, she plans an  
elaborate revenge against the Goblin King. At stake is the crown of  
the Illusion Queen, mistress of Masquerade...

Author's note: Before you read any further, please understand that  
this is a J/S story--even if it sounds very different at first. Many  
thanks to my beta readers, Arianne and Kat, who convinced me that  
this idea would make a decent story. As always, feedback is greatly  
appreciated.

Disclaimer: The characters and ideas of Labyrinth are the property  
of Jim Henson.

@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Chapter 2: Suspicions

It surprised no Masquerade courtiers that Jacopo honored Felicite  
with the title of Countess of Revels less than a fortnight later. She  
was a beautiful girl, all agreed, and such a good match for the young  
lord. Those who measured the ways of power nodded their heads  
ponderously and redrew the webs of influence that spread throughout  
the Underground.

Elise and Yasmin drank a bottle of champagne between them the night  
the engagement was announced. What they were celebrating, Elise  
wasn't sure. She was too curious as to what would happen next to  
spoil Yasmin's plans by demanding a full explanation.

The wedding was an appropriately grand affair for a people who loved  
decorous celebration. Jacopo and his family were masters of the  
tedious details and meticulous planning that marked successful  
celebrations. It was both expected and appropriate, after all, to  
mark both the marriage and the passing of the Count's title in fine  
Masquerade style. The double ceremony itself was small and private,  
but the new Count threw open the manor for a much-anticipated ball. 

Yasmin strode confidently to the herald, a flustered Elise in tow.  
Ignoring all protests from her golden-haired friend, she straightened  
her gown and walked into the ball, fingertips barely touching those  
of the trailing woman. Breathless, Elise glared at Yasmin as the  
herald announced them.

"The Lady Elise and the Lady Yasmin," said the small Fae, his  
trained voice rippling over the thin crowd without need of magic. Few  
heads turned. Elise once again faced her companion, annoyed. The  
small crowd was one of the many consequences of arriving  
unfashionably early, but Yasmin had insisted.

"I promised Felicite," she had said in her dressing room as she  
adjusted the strap of the mask. The hawk feathers shone with dark  
iridescence, her one concession to the festivities. She stood up from  
the dressing table and turned around for Elise to finish lacing the  
ties of her dress before returning the favor. As Yasmin finished  
closing Elise's rose gown, she turned beseeching eyes on her.  
"Please, Elise? You don't have a guest tonight to humor."

"That's a widow's privilege," Elise said halfheartedly, resigning  
herself to an early entrance. Yasmin was right, as always. Better to  
arrive early as friends than late, and alone.

Now, though, Elise was beginning to have second thoughts. The heavy  
crimson swags and flourishes of the ballroom were beautiful, but not  
excessively interesting. The live music had not yet started, and the  
quick-footed staff was still readying the tables and chairs. All talk  
was taking place without the cover of dance or food, something that  
Elise found excruciatingly difficult. Her breath back, she looked  
around for Yasmin so that she could chastise her for her brilliant  
idea.

She at last caught a glimpse of Yasmin's pale dress disappearing  
into the thickest part of the meager crowd. Cursing under her breath,  
Elise picked up her skirts and followed as briskly as she could. "Of  
course we'll stay together," she mocked, recalling Yasmin's earlier  
promise. "I won't leave you alone!" She snorted, nearly dislodging  
her heavily beaded mask. Replacing it, she pushed through the last  
remaining guests and reached her errant friend.

Yasmin was talking to the beaming bride, oblivious to her promise to  
Elise. She nodded in greeting, still talking. As a fuming Elise  
reached her side, Yasmin suddenly clasped Felicite in a warm embrace.  
She pulled back and produced a leather pouch.

"Please accept this gift in honor of your marriage, Countess," she  
said with a short curtsey.

Felicite smiled and opened the pouch, gasping in admiration as she  
withdrew a cunningly wrought necklace with a golden basilisk pendant.

"For luck," explained the giver. 

Obviously touched, Felicite hugged the smaller woman  
enthusiastically. Elise did not miss that Yasmin took advantage of  
the closeness to whisper in the bride's ear. Adding this new  
information to her mental list of grievances, she prepared to take  
her hawk-masked friend down a few pegs. She grabbed a cream-clad arm  
out of the tangle and pulled insistently.

"Listen," Elise hissed to Yasmin, conscious of keeping her voice  
down. "You promised not to leave me alone! I want an explanation,  
now, or..."

What she had planned to threaten Yasmin with was never to be known,  
as the king chose that moment to arrive in customary splendor.

A hush fell over the now-numerous guests as a bolt of lightning  
cracked across the cloudless night sky. In the middle of the  
ballroom, a column of glittering light coalesced into the imposing  
figure of His Royal Highness. Belatedly, a dark-haired man came into  
existence with much less fanfare. He simply appeared. The King, on  
the other hand, _arrived_.

Despite his surprise, the groom quickly collected himself and  
greeted his illustrious guest. "Your majesty!" Jacopo exclaimed,  
bowing deeply. "We are honored by your presence." Elise's estimation  
of the young Count went up a notch. Beside her, she was sure that  
Yasmin radiated a quiet approval of her former suitor. The two women  
paid their respects to the reigning monarch with the crowd. Yasmin's  
auburn locks tumbled over her masked face as she inclined her head  
and curtsied deeply.

Something in that gesture set off a quiet alarm in Elise's  
calculating mind. When, exactly, had Yasmin ever been so respectful  
of the king? She reviewed several things at once, turning them over  
in her head and trying to fit the pieces together correctly. Yasmin  
had always refused to comment on her past, but Elise had recently  
developed a theory that needed further investigation. She suspected  
that this time she had finally hit upon the correct answer.

Elise turned her attention to the Goblin King, assessing him as she  
did any other available man of high position. When her not-lamented  
husband had been alive, she had been lucky enough to attend court as  
the wife of one of the secondary royal advisors. Bored by the prosaic  
concerns of the Labyrinth Court, she had diverted herself by  
observing the king. Although she had not been back to the Labyrinth  
for some time, she instantly dropped back into her old habit.

Today he had opted for a more conservative look, which for him  
consisted of an elegant long jacket and breeches of dark green  
velvet. Elise was amused to observe that his cream-colored blouse  
matched that of her friend's almost exactly, and murmured this  
observation quickly.

From Yasmin's stiff position, she could tell that the woman was not  
flattered. Elise finished her cursory observation quickly and  
determined two things: one, that although the Goblin King's visit was  
unannounced, it was meant to be friendly, and secondly, that she  
found him as unappealing as ever.

The latter distressed her. From a purely aesthetic standpoint, she  
could always conclude that he was visually striking. His finely  
sculpted features held a certain languorous beauty, tempered only by  
the hardness of his eyes and a certain line to his mouth. She wanted  
to find Jareth attractive, but failed at every turn. To play the  
Masquerade game, a courtier invariably had to deal with the Goblin  
King, the regent of the Masquerade Court. If an attractive woman  
pursued the right avenues, she could find herself with an invitation  
to the king's personal chambers, a position of considerable  
influence. The Goblin King had no wife, and the courtiers could dream  
that his bride-present might be the Court itself. Association with  
the king, therefore, was vital.

Elise had somehow survived despite careful avoidance of such a  
liaison. It had taken more work to reach the powerful inner circle of  
courtiers, but she felt more worthy for it. Jareth frequently  
rewarded women he enjoyed with influential marriages or  
introductions, reinforcing the ties between Labyrinth and Masquerade.  
As the survivor of a loveless marriage, Elise had no interest in  
another attempt. She had felt a sort of quiet relief when the news  
came that her husband had died: within weeks, she had moved to  
quarters within the Masquerade Castle and returned to the schemes she  
had left behind when she had married. She enjoyed her freedom and had  
no interest in attracting Jareth's attentions. 

Faced with the thought of another marriage, Elise found herself  
more than content with her meaningless games in the Masquerade Court  
and her friendship with Yasmin, and left the king out of her plans.

Yasmin, however, was another story. Despite her similar avowal of  
attraction to the king, on which the schemes of all available  
Masquerade females usually centered, Elise sensed a different sort of  
obsession on her friend's part. She noted how Yasmin seemed a  
fraction of her usual imposing self upon the King's arrival at the  
ball and her careful avoidance of his gaze. Yasmin and the Goblin  
King had some deep history, and Elise would have bet her substantial  
fortune that it was a story worth knowing.

Jareth's gaze roamed the ballroom without incident while Elise  
pondered; he soon turned to the bride. "Well met, Felicite."

"Well met indeed, milord," she said, clearly overawed by his visit.  
"Thank you for visiting my husband and I on this occasion. In truth,  
you honor us greatly with your attentions today."

The King smiled graciously. "Such fine words are only to be expected  
from the Elf-bred daughter of the Lady Rebekah. She would be proud of  
you if she could see you today."

As Felicite blushed in pleasure, Elise took advantage of the moment  
to whisper to Yasmin, her earlier anger deferred by her thoughts.  
"Aye, it's well that he should say that. Rebekah was one of his  
favorites, you know, although that was well before your time."

The reply, when it finally came, was as bland as the pleasantries  
currently exchanged between the king and those bold enough to  
approach him. "Really?"

Somewhat taken aback by Yasmin's lack of surprise and cool tone,  
Elise tried again to bait her interest. "They say that she was  
almost his daughter." She nodded with satisfaction as the hawk mask  
snapped to attention.

"He's always taken good care of Felicite--I daresay Jacopo was  
thoroughly investigated by his majesty's agents before the wedding  
was allowed to occur."

Yasmin nodded her head, a move that served to enlighten Elise to  
precisely nothing. She decided that another way might meet with more  
success, and removed her attention to noting Jacopo's ties as denoted  
by his guests. Of particular interest were the quiet elves that  
clustered in small groups, clothed in exquisite materials. The large  
number hinted at both planned negotiations and considerable respect  
for the wedding party, and Elise turned her mind to guessing the  
possible elvish goods that might soon be in the hands of Revelia and  
how she could invest her fortune properly.

Order began to assert itself on the haphazard receiving line for the  
king and the newlyweds, and the two women soon found themselves near  
the front. Although Yasmin appeared outwardly calm, Elise's sharp  
gaze noticed how her hands, although modestly buried in her gown,  
were working the pale material into knots before slowly unclenching  
them to start the process again. Her attention was noticed; hawk-eyes  
met her own, and an understanding passed between the two.

"I feel unwell," Yasmin announced to an unsurprised Elise. "It was  
foolish of me not to eat before coming to such an affair." She looked  
sidelong at the long tables of food and the soft seats provided for  
guests nearby. "Please give my best to Jacopo. I'm sure he will  
understand."

Then she was gone in a flurry of ivory satin, leaving Elise even  
more determined to uncover the secret her friend was so carefully  
hiding. She sighed and straightened her skirts as the line gave way  
to the couple and the king.

"Your majesty," she said, curtseying quickly. "Such a pleasure to  
see you again."

Jareth's indifferent face took on a more interested cast as he  
recognized her. "As always, Lady Elise," he acknowledged with more  
politeness as she had expected. As she prepared to bow her head and  
move on, he asked a polite question. "And who has the pleasure of  
escorting you this evening?"

Startled, her head snapped up with a decided lack of grace. With a  
sinking heart, she realized he was now gazing straight at her, the  
earlier warmth lost behind an inscrutable mask. 

"I came unescorted, my lord," she said carefully, unsure of how to  
read his intent. How foolish of her to think that he would not  
notice, or care. Her eyes strayed past his shoulder to the dark-  
haired man in sober clothing, noticing that he too was watching her  
intently.

"I was referring, of course, to your companion of the evening," the  
Goblin King continued, his implacable stare harder to bear by the  
second. "The red-haired woman who was waiting with you in the  
receiving line?"

"Oh," she said, careful to hide her relief. She had mistakenly  
assumed that he had been about to offer a personal invitation or even  
a match. "That was the Lady Yasmin. She felt unwell, and left to  
rest."

The Goblin King seemed to consider this information. She leaned  
forward, expecting another question, but he abruptly collected  
himself and straightened. A twirl of his gloved fingers produced a  
shining crystal sphere. Alerted by the use of magic, Jacopo briefly  
turned his head before resuming his animated conversation with two  
willowy elves. Surprised by the display, Elise was further startled  
when the king handed her the heavy crystal, his smile warm but his  
eyes unreadable.

"This invitation is for both you and the Lady Yasmin," he told her  
as she cradled the crystal carefully. His slanted eyebrows drew  
together under the fall of feathery hair. "Make sure that you both  
attend."

It was both a command and a dismissal, and she hastily made  
obeisance and left, forgetting Jacopo and Felicite for the moment.  
She found Yasmin easily enough, flirting with a lesser lord of Revels  
and looking decidedly hearty. Grabbing her arm unceremoniously, she  
dragged her away with a muttered apology to the lordling.

"Explain this," Elise said, her earlier ire returning. She shoved  
the crystal at Yasmin, who curiously crossed her arms over her chest  
in refusal. She leaned in close instead, inspecting the outthrust  
object.

"He gave you this?" No need to guess whom Yasmin was referring to,  
Elise thought wryly. Her friend saved that particular disdain for  
only one Fae.

"It's for both of us. He was very specific about including you."

"I see."

"What have you done, Yasmin?"

Her friend looked up at her from her inspection of the magic, her  
eyes narrowed behind the black feathers of her mask. Elise saw her  
clenched hands and realized that the king had a very specific reason  
for the invitation. Somehow, she doubted that Yasmin's fury was the  
expected result. Nonetheless, they were both invited, and there was  
nothing either could do now but accept.

"Think carefully, Yasmin," she said curtly. "Have you ever met the  
king before? Caught his attention somehow?"

The woman shook her head, too quickly. "No."

"Then how?"

When Yasmin finally responded, her frustration was plain. "I don't  
know! I wish I did, so I could have planned for it." She abruptly  
clamped her mouth shut, checking her surroundings for eavesdroppers.  
When she was satisfied no one was nearby, she continued. "I'm sorry  
to have dragged you into this, Elise."

Her anger once again defused by Yasmin's sincere confusion, Elise  
stared glumly into the depths of the crystal. "Yasmin, you know I  
hate these things!"

"I do. And I hate them too."

"And you still get me into one. I'm too old to do this!"

"We'll figure out a way to turn it like we always do," was Yasmin's  
sly reply, accompanied by a slight lift of her shoulders.

Elise grasped Yasmin's hands, excitement rising as she considered  
the possibilities. "That's my girl."

The two wandered back into the whirling crowd, exchanging  
pleasantries with courtiers they recognized and consecutively wilder  
schemes with one another. The receiving line thinned, and as the moon  
set, the king took his leave without another glance at the cream-clad  
woman or her blonde companion. It turned out, one heavy crystal  
invitation notwithstanding, to be a most pleasant night for Elise and  
Yasmin.


	3. Certainties

Smoke and Mirrors  
By Alison Harvey

Summary: Long ago, Sarah chose her dreams over Toby, a trap she came  
to regret. Now, as a member of the Masquerade Court, she plans an  
elaborate revenge against the Goblin King. At stake is the crown of  
the Illusion Queen, mistress of Masquerade...

Author's note: A J/S story. Many thanks to my beta readers Kat and  
Arianne. 

Disclaimer: The characters and ideas of Labyrinth are the property  
of Jim Henson.

@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Chapter 3: Certainties

As Elise had predicted somewhat drunkenly the night of Jacopo's  
wedding, the crystal invitation activated itself at the most  
inconvenient time possible: early morning three days afterwards, when  
both women were sound asleep in their adjoining rooms.

Yasmin had admitted to Elise many years before that she didn't have  
the money to rent one of the expensive central room sets in the  
Masquerade castle, the traditional home of single, untitled female  
courtiers. She had asked her friend for a loan to cover the  
difference. Elise, who owned one of the more extravagant suites  
outright, had insisted that her apprentice share her quarters. After  
much haggling, Yasmin had agreed. They both found the arrangement  
ideal: two women in separate sleeping chambers filled the suite  
perfectly, and midnight plans and private conversations were  
instantly accessible. Down the hall lived their maid: a small, quiet  
woman who had worked for Elise since her marriage.

Neither Elise nor Yasmin was awake to see the clear globe silently  
pulsing red flashes of light in Yasmin's room, but the crystal magic  
consisted of three sequences if no acknowledgement came.

Elise awoke from a pleasant dream in which the entire Masquerade  
Court was replaced with handsome young men to find a wild-haired  
Yasmin shaking her.

She yawned as she sat up, confused. "Yasmin, do you have any idea  
what time it is?"

Despite looking nearly as exhausted, Yasmin still managed a  
malicious smirk. She brought an object out from behind her back,  
wrapped in scrap of cloth, and dropped it into Elise's lap before  
covering her ears. Elise stared dumbly at the flashing crystal before  
realizing what was about to happen.

The crystal, with impeccable timing, began to emit a high-pitched  
buzzing noise. Elise slapped at it irritably, watching with  
satisfaction as it dissolved on contact. She reached for the folded  
invitation it had revealed, but Yasmin grabbed it first. Grumbling,  
Elise stood and walked to the wardrobe in her sleeping shift, still  
not sufficiently awake.

"The ball will begin at moonrise," Yasmin read aloud from the other  
side of the room. "Masquerade dress is sufficient."

Elise blinked, confused. "Is that the exact wording?"

"I paraphrased. If you really want to hear the full language...?"

Elise sighed. "I'll take your word for it. Honestly! Why so early?"

"Told you," said Yasmin, crossing to inspect the tan and green gown  
Elise had just pulled out of the wardrobe. "Goblin attire, Elise?  
Really?"

"It's appropriate, considering that it'll be his fault that's what  
I'll look like with so little sleep."

"Jareth will notice, you know," Yasmin teased, "and think that you  
have designs on his kingship!"

Her friend huffed. "If only he'd just admit it. Then I'd finally be  
able to kick you into the Bog and be done with it." She sniffed.  
"What's that I smell?" A spicy, exotic aroma was drifting from the  
door that connected her chamber to Yasmin's.

"What do you mean?" asked Yasmin innocently, backing up towards the  
door to her room. "I certainly wouldn't have tea in my room, freshly  
brought up from the kitchens. And if I did, I certainly wouldn't  
share it with anyone who threatened me with the Bog of Eternal  
Stench." Jareth's nasty invention was well-known throughout the  
Underground.

Elise eyed her friend suspiciously. "This is just an elaborate  
payback for leaving the crystal in your room, isn't it?"

"Maybe."

"Then I'm sorry."

Yasmin opened the door invitingly. "Come in then, and drink with me."

Elise dove for the door. Once inside, she accepted a steaming cup  
gratefully and breathed in the hot vapor, already feeling refreshed.  
She gulped the spiced tea down, to the amusement of the other woman.  
Yasmin was grinning cheekily in between sips of her drink, already  
dressed in a day skirt and blouse and, in Elise's opinion, far too  
alert.

When the fiery liquid had sufficiently cleared her sleep-fogged  
mind, Elise put down her cup. "Fine," she said. "What are you  
wearing? And do we have a hairdresser yet?"

Yasmin's smile faltered slightly. "I called a hairdresser when I  
asked Tetis to bring the tea. As for what I'm wearing...I don't think  
that I'm going."

The cup clattered loudly against the saucer as Elise stared at her,  
wide-eyed. "Not going? Impossible. I won't let you do that to  
yourself."

Her friend shrugged. "They get boring. Surely the king will  
understand."

"The invitation was given to me for you," Elise explained slowly,  
dragging out the syllables in an effort to get her point across and  
more than a bit flustered by Yasmin's inexplicable behavior. They had  
gone before to such affairs, and had not been entertained, but Yasmin  
had never tried such a stupid stunt before. "I thought I taught you  
better than this, dear. I think that I deserve an explanation for why  
you are so determined to avoid the King." She caught Yasmin's faint  
surprise, and pushed harder. "You've been hiding this for years. When  
were you going to explain the why of it to me?"

Yasmin stared down at her cup for long minutes, absentmindedly  
swirling her spoon in the cooling drink and refusing to face Elise.  
She lifted her head, looking at her long-time friend directly. "I  
can't tell you right now. Please don't make me go through this before  
I have to face him tonight, or I won't be able to hide it." When she  
failed to get a reaction, she hastily continued. "I'll tell you after  
the ball. I swear."

Elise held her tongue. Something in what Yasmin had said had  
unlocked a long-ago memory for her. Yasmin's iron facade had been in  
place for years, and this was the first moment of real vulnerability  
she had seen since she had first met the young woman. She was  
hesitant to lose such trust by pushing a confession now.

"After the ball, then," she said, trying not to feel guilty at the  
look of relief on Yasmin's face. "But you must go. He will notice  
more by your absence after a specific request than he would if you  
merely act disinterested."

"What? You think all this happened just because he favors red hair  
this month?"

"I'm sure that's all there is to it. You needn't worry."

Yasmin took a deep breath and squared her shoulders, regaining some  
of her confidence. "I would have been fine if I hadn't had the damned  
dreams the other night," she said, but shook her head when Elise  
motioned for her to continue. "Let's go find a good dress. Something  
boring, but fancy enough that he'll think I valued his invitation. I  
want to look as plain as possible if he's looking for his latest  
conquest."

Elise nodded. "I think I know just the outfit." She leaned forward,  
favoring her friend with a conspiratorial wink. "How about pink?"

Yasmin laughed loudly as she realized the direction of Elise's  
thoughts, leaving the other woman thankful at the sudden release of  
tension. Elise considered what she had just remembered, then firmly  
pushed aside her suspicions until they could be properly aired. 

-----

Precisely at moonrise, the invitation transported the two women to  
the Labyrinth ball. The feeling of magical travel was as always,  
dizzying, but Elise managed to shake it off with practiced ease.  
Yasmin, unused to the power of the Goblin King's spells, felt  
nauseous, so the two sat down on soft cushions until she could  
properly adjust.

The ballroom had familiar spell-built convex walls, creating a fish  
bowl effect that made both women uncomfortable. Perhaps in response  
to such sentiments, tonight a blue magical glow dimmed the scene. The  
dim light had the unfortunate effect of turning bystanders into half-  
drowned sprites, looming out of the darkness. Blue candles as thick  
as a woman's waist provided warmer light for the dance floor and  
trailing gauzy fabric tangled the room into a conspiratorial maze.  
Shards of crystal lay in drifts, completing the wintery feel. Soft  
pillows like the one the two rested on lay everywhere for the sport  
or sleep of guests, and an enticing aroma hinted at refreshments  
behind one of the curtains. 

Yasmin stared at one of the nearer candles, trying to will her head  
to stop spinning. She knew she had succeeded when she saw one, not  
two, candles before her.

"A few more times and you won't feel a thing," reassured Elise. "And  
to think you were considering not coming! How could you ever adjust  
if you never were exposed to such a level?"

Yasmin smirked, painted lips twisting. "I think that I would somehow  
survive."

"We can't rest much longer or it'll be obvious why. And then people  
would want to know..."

"Hush, Elise, I'm getting up." She brushed off her dress, smoothing  
its ridiculous ruffles with fond affection, and stood up.

Elise eyed the dress with pride. It had required some last minute  
adjustments, but it was perfect. Yasmin's rust-red hair clashed  
horribly with the fluffy layered confection of antique yellowed lace  
and baby-pink satin. Her dark cream hawk's mask was two shades too  
dark to match properly, giving Yasmin the overall effect of a child's  
doll left out in sunlight until it tarnished. The deep cut of the  
bodice and tightly laced corset presented pale breasts to an almost  
obscene degree, providing the appropriate finishing tackiness. Yasmin  
had protested the bodice, but Elise had insisted. The dress had been  
a gift from Elise's late husband, after all. It would be rude to the  
dearly departed to change it from the original design. Both women had  
laughed.

"Now come on," Elise urged. "You're acting like it was your first  
invitation. You know what's required."

Rolling her eyes, Yasmin acquiesced and assumed the stance of the  
practiced, bored courtier as she lazily approached the milling  
dancers. Light music was playing, but nothing interesting caught her  
attention. She allowed a man with an underwater-themed mask to pull her  
into the waltz, assessing him quickly as someone as bored as her, and  
no doubt married. The angry woman who grabbed her partner for the  
next dance confirmed her theory, and she swiftly found herself in the  
arms of Jareth's tall, dark-haired advisor. He wore only the briefest  
of masks, allowing her to appreciate his chiseled cheekbones and deep  
blue eyes. Even so, she kept a wary eye out for the king himself.

"Lady Yasmin, I presume," he said during a quieter section of the  
music, his eyes twinkling merrily at her from behind his mirrored  
black mask.

"I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage, sir," she said  
flirtatiously, recognizing the invitation. "I am Yasmin, but I have  
never learned your name."

"Marcus," he replied as he spun her to the music. "I am Felicite's  
cousin, if that would put you more at ease."

She smiled, a genuine beaming smile that lit up her eyes. "Are you?  
Shame on Felicite, for not mentioning you sooner," she chided. "I see  
the resemblance."

"You see nothing of the sort," he said, amused. "I look no more like  
my cousin-by-marriage than I do my cousin-by-blood the king."

Yasmin tensed briefly, but he seemed not to notice as he continued.  
"Then again, I've been told I have the same dashing sensibilities as  
the king, so perhaps there is hope for me after all."

He paused, and she once again realized her cue. Despite his  
distasteful connections, she found herself genuinely liking the man.  
"Dashing? The king? Perhaps I am bold, my lord, but I much prefer  
your looks to his, and would not consider it such a compliment."

Marcus smiled at her as the music changed subtly. Yasmin was  
captivated, and for once missed the orchestral cue reserved for the  
entrance of royalty.

"It's truly a shame, then," he said, "for I've been leading you on,  
I'm afraid."

She pressed closer to him, pouting prettily. "And how disappointing.  
For what?"

"A request, we'll say," he said, as he spun her out in perfect time  
to the beat. At the exact point of maximum extension, she lost  
contact with his fingers.

Before she could lose momentum, a hand curled firmly around her  
waist and pulled her into the next turn. She was frantic to learn her  
rescuer was the Goblin King. Her heart sank, but she hid it with her  
polished courtier's smile, making a mental note to strangle Elise the  
next time she saw her. She carefully looked over his shoulder to look  
for said victim, but she was nowhere in sight. Trapped, she kept her  
composure with a string of silent curses directed at too-smooth  
Marcus, traitorous Elise, and most of all, the damned Goblin King.

"Good evening, Lady Yasmin," he said smoothly to her. She was  
fleetingly glad of his embrace, as it stopped her knees from buckling  
at the sound of a voice she had not had directed at her in years. It  
was cool and precise, knife-sharp even when expressing courtesies. It  
smothered and embraced her like the harsh brush of rough velvet, much  
like the blue velvet jacket she clung to now.

Recognizing with painful clarity the king's gem-dusted jacket, she  
looked involuntarily up at his face.

The second mistake, as it turned out. Seeing his face from the  
trailing edge of a crowd didn't hold a candle to the experience and  
the sheer visceral impact of Jareth, Goblin King. The soft blue glow  
hollowed his cheekbones and sharpened his nose, turning him into a  
living, breathing marble statue, impossibly beautiful. Her breath   
caught in her throat for a long moment at the sight. Only the  
remembrance of a long, ill-fated and disturbing chain of past events  
and the boiling anger it evoked returned her to her senses. She   
caught him looking down at her in bemusement and realized that she  
had not yet spoken.

"Your majesty," she said with a well-pitched simper, "What an honor  
this is!"

"The pleasure is mine," replied Jareth, and if he was disappointed  
by her saccharine tones and the horrid dress, his face and voice  
showed nothing but the utmost pleasure. Despite that, she felt she  
could hear the undertones of veiled sarcasm, and his handsome face  
seemed but one muscle twitch from a sneer. Clearly, she was not what  
he had been expecting to find in his arms. 

Opening her eyes wide and bright, she played the gambit out in full.  
"Such an honor," she repeated. "I've always wanted to dance with you,  
Your Highness."

Yes, that was definitely a sneer forming on his face, but his voice  
was still soft and smoky when he replied. "I can't imagine why we  
haven't danced before--allow me to express my happiness at your  
recovery from your illness. And now, if you'll excuse me?"

He pushed her aside delicately but forcefully, hurrying away with a  
shake of his head to Marcus. When he was safely gone, she allowed her  
smirk to blossom fully on her face, as if well-satisfied with the  
politics of dancing. In truth, she was satisfied with besting the  
more experienced Fae ruler, but there was no sense in portraying  
anything else to the jealous women around her.

Her satisfaction lasted as long as it took to see Jareth dancing  
with a young slip of a girl wearing a dress sparkling with crystal  
shards. With her icy hair and blue-white dress, she reminded Yasmin  
strongly of a plump icicle, albeit an icicle that was evidently  
pleased with both her situation and her handsome dance partner. She  
let the King whirl her around in delight, heedless of the thirteen-  
hour clock behind her ticking away the time steadily. 

Yasmin turned away, sickened by the temptation ritual. She had seen  
many, but the ruse still had the power to turn her stomach. She  
stood, frozen, when he began to sing a familiar tune to the girl. The  
court milled around their king in victorious pleasure.

"I never will understand what they see in him," a distinctly male  
voice cut into her thoughts, and she looked up briefly to see an  
unmasked man. Tired of strangers, she nearly cut him off with a short  
remark, but he spoke again.

"A young girl, probably not more than fourteen, and suddenly a  
handsome devil appears and promises with songs that he's her prince.  
Doesn't someone ever warn those girls not to talk to strange men? Why  
are they so eager to fall into his arms? And, most importantly, why  
are they so stupid as to never see the clock? Oh, I ate this peach  
and suddenly here's my prince, forget about the child." He snorted,  
finished with his outburst.

She let the words flow past, surprised by the animosity in his long-  
winded tirade. Amused, she at last acknowledged his presence with a  
slight curtsey. "I'm Yasmin, dear sir, and it is a delight to meet  
someone with such original thinking." She let her eyes wander to the  
waltzing king, secure in his success, then trail back to the brown-  
haired Fae who had addressed her to make the source of originality  
clear.

"Eglan, at your service." He had cold blue eyes, and he stared at  
her breasts a trifle more than necessary, but she could see the  
intelligence and sharp good humor in his expression. Deciding she  
could do far worse than Duke Eglan of the Labyrinth Court, she smiled  
at him seductively and drew close.

"Is this your first temptation, your grace?"

He laughed shortly. "It's not, but it's the first time I've heard  
someone with backbone enough to admit it for what it is."

His candidness made her almost ready to declare an intention to  
marry him. Even with his wandering gaze, he would be perfect as an  
escort for the next few weeks. 

"Why, Duke Eglan, we of the Masquerade Court have always had a very  
clear understanding of where true power lies."

He eyed her speculatively, and then offered her his arm. "Eglan, my  
dear, not Duke. Come dance with me."

She let him draw her into the cavorting crowd, and began her next  
scheme.

-----

From the corner, Marcus watched her with interest, carefully noting  
the object of her flirtation and her obvious change in manner since  
disengaging from his king. He would warn Jareth to keep an eye on the  
Lady Yasmin, particularly with her sudden interest in Duke Eglan. He  
could think of few liaisons that could cause more trouble. 

He shook his head. He had warned Jareth about this one, but to no  
avail. A Masquerade woman scorned...

Letting the thought trail off, he disappeared from the ballroom to  
finish the latest paperwork, and tend to the crying four-year-old  
abandoned by her cousin for a dance with the Goblin King.


	4. Possibilities

Smoke and Mirrors  
By Alison Harvey

Summary: Long ago, Sarah chose her dreams over Toby, a trap she came  
to regret. Now, as a member of the Masquerade Court, she plans an  
elaborate revenge against the Goblin King. At stake is the crown of  
the Illusion Queen, mistress of Masquerade...

Author's note: A J/S story. Many thanks to Arianne and Alorindanya,  
who tear my drafts apart and turn them into coherent chapters.

Disclaimer: The characters and ideas of Labyrinth are the property  
of Jim Henson.

@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Chapter 4: Possibilities

Elise listened to the throaty laughter outside the door, the deep  
voice that rumbled in reply, and wondered exactly what she could pay  
Yasmin to stop seeing Eglan. It had been one torturous week since  
Yasmin and Elise had returned from the latest temptation ball, and  
Elise had regretted accepting the invitation ever since Yasmin had  
begun visiting Eglan. At the very least, perhaps she could put up  
enough gold for Yasmin to move to her own set of castle rooms so that  
she wouldn't need to hold such ridiculous conversations within  
hearing distance of her friend.

Yasmin was entitled to her dalliances, and Elise was certainly not  
qualified to condemn her for her pleasure with men. Elise allowed  
herself a tight smile: in her long lifetime, she had welcomed many  
men to her bed, several during the time since she had met Yasmin. The  
difference was that all such relationships had been of mutual  
pleasure and neither woman had felt it necessary before now to  
correct the other's mistakes. Sometimes a handsome Fae had moved  
directly from one bed to another, with no ill feelings between the  
two. Yasmin had never mentioned any particular affection to such men,  
particularly when she had already moved on to her next escort. Such  
attachments were necessary at times to cultivate the right sort of  
favors, and both women were adept.

This, however, was different: Yasmin had met Duke Eglan at the  
Labyrinth Court. She had initially mentioned a run-in with the King,  
which Elise confirmed through her own sources, right down to snippets  
of the conversation with Lord Marcus. Yasmin had chattered far more  
loudly about Eglan, and brightly enough that Elise began to wonder  
about her true motivations. She sounded besotted, an emotion that  
Elise would never normally associate with the redhead.

As the next few days went on, with each day spent almost entirely in  
the company of the Duke, Elise watched her friend. Outwardly, Yasmin  
showed all the signs of a girl in the grip of a particularly strong  
attachment that might lead to something more. When she was not in the  
Duke's presence, however, that part of her personality seemed almost  
entirely absent. She mentioned the wonderful rides across the Duke's  
holdings, the latest dinner and the ensuing conversation, and  
constantly praised Eglan's attentiveness. To Elise, however, it  
sounded in her recollections like an accountant's measure, as if  
Yasmin was trying to convince herself of his worthiness. It was  
growing harder and harder to smile politely when Eglan was mentioned.

Elise suspected Yasmin wanted the Duke for something else, yet was  
convincing herself that it was because she was genuinely attracted to  
the Fae lord. When Elise tried to call her on it, mentioning that  
they had always discussed their politics together, Yasmin had closed  
herself off and retired to her room, feigning a headache or a  
pressing need for rest. In the past few days, she had simply not come  
home until early in the morning, careful not to wake her friend as  
she made her way to her own bed. Before she did so, she would have  
long, bubbly conversations with Eglan outside the chambers, with many  
vows of visits on the next day. Elise couldn't sleep through the  
noise and was forced to listen to Yasmin flirt with the man.

Tonight, Elise was determined to confront her pupil and friend and  
learn the truth of her behavior. Besides that, however, it had been a  
week since Yasmin had promised to tell her of her strange history  
with the Goblin King. She had been patient until today, when she had  
received a letter from her sister that confirmed an earlier inquiry.  
She had all the information she needed, but many questions remained  
unanswered. Yasmin would answer them for her tonight, Elise promised  
herself.

As Yasmin quietly entered their sitting room, Elise watched her from  
the chair in which she had been waiting. With a small burst of magic,  
the candles flared to life. Yasmin jumped satisfactorily at  
unexpectedly seeing her friend in her room. 

Elise took the opportunity to pounce.

"You promised to tell me about the King," she threatened, rising  
from her chair and approaching the shorter woman. "I've waited seven  
days, and listened to your excuses. Tell me now." Elise accented her  
words with a spell of command, nearly expending her meager talents.  
She was not foolish enough to believe that she could influence her  
strong-willed friend with her frail magic: rather, she sought to  
convince Yasmin that there was no escaping her questions tonight.  
Fortunately, the compunction seemed adequate.

Yasmin deflated instantly, her forehead creasing as she slumped into  
a nearby chair. Squeezing her eyes shut in concentration, she lit the  
fire. Elise raised an eyebrow; despite her tutoring, that particular  
piece of magic was the human woman's limit. Three spells in one night  
from the two of them underscored the seriousness of the situation.

"You don't need to use magic. I'll tell you," Yasmin said quietly,  
pinching the bridge of her nose in an effort to stop the growing  
headache caused by lighting the fire. "What, exactly, do you want to  
know?"

Yasmin's quick agreement was another worrying sign, but Elise was  
far too eager to prove her theory right to pay it much attention. She  
had followed a pattern for nine years, untangling words, gestures and  
unexpected actions with diligence and patience. If her theory held  
true, the path led squarely to an infamous tale that still echoed  
throughout the Courts fourteen years later: the story of the girl who  
had beaten the Goblin King's Labyrinth.

"Let's start with your real name," Elise said slowly.

The fire flickered and died in the hearth.

Elise stood up and fussed with a taper for a few moments as she  
relit the fire, looking carefully at her friend in the resumed glow.  
Yasmin was pale and deathly still. She had shut her eyes tightly, as  
if by closing out the world she could forget the last few moments.

"I'm right, aren't I?" Elise said, trying to shock Yasmin out of her  
trancelike state. "You _are_ Sarah Williams."

Elise settled beside her friend on the chair. The other woman moved  
at last, clinging to Elise desperately, eyes still closed. She held  
frantically to Elise, who stroked her hair tenderly. "Shhh, Sarah,"  
she hushed. "How long have we been friends, my dear?" She tightened  
her arms around her friend. "I know why you didn't tell me, darling  
girl, but there's no need to regret. All will be well."

Sarah began to cry as Elise gently rocked her, sobbing quietly into  
her friend's arms. She seemed unable to do more than allow herself to  
be cosseted as she let years' worth of pent-up emotion flow. When she  
finally cracked one eye open, Elise was waiting patiently, tenderly.

"I'm sorry," Sarah said hoarsely. "But you can see why I didn't want  
anyone to know." She shifted so that she was hugging her friend  
closely, her head resting against Elise's shoulder, her feet curled  
up beneath her skirt. "I never wanted to lie to you...but I was so  
afraid at the beginning..." She stopped talking, and Elise watched her  
carefully, certain she was about to break down again.

Sarah took a deep breath and continued. "Do you forgive me?"

"Silly girl," Elise chided, lightly pinching Sarah's shoulder. "What  
an absurd question! Here I am trying to tell you that it's fine.  
Nothing has changed."

Sarah lifted her head, scooting backwards slightly until she was  
looking squarely into Elise's eyes, foreheads almost touching. "Let  
me explain," she said, eyes wide and earnest. "I have an idea, Elise,  
and I need your help to do it."

"Is this why you've been so tense around the Goblin King lately?"  
Elise questioned gently. Sarah nodded in assent.

"I've been fine for years," she said slowly, testing her words. "But  
now that I'm so close..."

"Yes?" Elise queried, intrigued by the trailing statement.

Sarah seemed on the verge of completing what it was that she was  
close to, but shook her head. She began again after a deep breath.  
"I've been working on something for a little while now," she said.  
"But now that I'm so close...I'm worried that I'll be caught. The  
closer I get, the more I think it's just some elaborate trap I  
haven't yet discovered." She shifted further away as something  
occurred to her. "How did you find out, Elise?"

In the face of Sarah's sudden panic, Elise decided the truth was  
best. "You jump at certain cues lately, particularly any mention of  
the king. Your reaction to the temptation, combined with your  
uneasiness around Jareth, brought to mind the old rumor of the girl  
who beat the Labyrinth. I wrote my sister, who was present at your  
Labyrinth ball. She replied today with a description that matched my  
first memory of you."

Sarah's fear had not subsided, so Elise spoke hastily to calm her  
down, pushing aside for the moment her burning curiosity. "Don't  
worry--Jareth isn't searching for you. No one except for my sister  
could know about my sudden interest in the long-lost Sarah and I  
would have heard if anyone suspected she was present. And I also  
would have heard instantly if anyone thought it was you." She  
fingered Sarah's dyed hair with pride. "A redhead, indeed. Jareth was  
looking for real redheads, my dear, that's what I heard. Just a  
passing fancy." She grinned. "He obviously thought you one as well."

Sobering quickly, she clasped Sarah's hands in her own. "I know  
that's slim proof, but it's the best we have to go on. I swear by our  
sisterhood that he will never find out because of me."

Sarah nodded slowly. "Thank you, Elise. I owe you a great debt."

Her verbal acknowledgement of her trust was a powerful contract, and  
Elise nodded, pleased by her friend's generosity.  
Yasmin...Sarah...would never say such a thing if she did not intend  
to honor it. Gently, she shoved Sarah.

"I have many questions to ask the Sarah who beat the Labyrinth, but  
I'd settle for a description of your delightfully intriguing-sounding  
plans. You can catch me up on all the old Court gossip soon enough."  
Tactfully, she avoided mentioning Eglan. After a revelation of such  
magnitude, she felt guilty pressing Sarah for further information.  
With luck, Sarah would mention him herself and spare her the trouble.

Sarah...

Elise shook her head, realizing what a trick Yasmin had played upon  
them all. No one had even guessed, not even her, not until the few  
peculiar events of the past year. Sarah had truly understood the  
Masquerade Court not to give one hint of the deception until now. The  
story had become a legend in less than a decade of mortal time,  
bandied about the Courts and told from a decidedly pro-Jareth  
perspective. She felt outraged on Sarah's behalf, remembering the  
calculating gossip she had heard then.

"Sarah," she said, hastily stopping when she saw Sarah blink away  
tears at the address. "Tell me your plans. I promise to help you in  
any way that I can." Her eyes narrowed as a thought ocurred. "And I  
hope, for your sake, that they involve the Goblin King."

Sarah brightened. Although her eyes were still red and her nose and  
cheeks flushed and swollen, the mention of her long-planned scheme  
clearly gave her new energy. "Elise, I think you'll love it. It took  
me a long time and more favors than I'd like to think about, but with  
Eglan's help it might be finally ready."

Elise frowned at the mention of Eglan, but let her prodigy continue.

"I intend to bring back the Illusion Queen," Sarah said, now calm.  
She watched Elise closely with a tight smile that promised a nasty  
surprise for Jareth.

Elise's jaw dropped open as she realized what Sarah meant. "You  
brilliant, brilliant girl!" she exclaimed, her mind furiously  
considering the next steps to be made. "Oh, you darling, I am so  
proud of you!" She embraced the girl fiercely, a grin stretching  
across her face. "Only you could pull it off in such a way to be  
worthy of the Masquerade Court. And such a fitting payback..."

Sarah preened as Elise continued to gush over the idea. True, there  
were flaws still evident in the plan, small holes here and there that  
needed patching. Elise's devious mind would be able to find those  
imperfections and correct them, Sarah hoped. Surreptitiously, she  
knocked on the wood of the table.

"Elise," she said, interrupting the flow of plans streaming from her  
friend. "You must tell me everything that you know about initiating  
the ceremonies, all the etiquette involved. You must tell me who  
judges, and how the presentations go. I must know everything you know  
so I can see if I've made a mistake." She looked meaningfully at the  
other woman. "Nothing has yet been committed: I can still extricate  
myself if I work carefully."

Elise nodded happily; glad to be back in the partnership of easy  
plans and politics that had marked their relationship since the  
beginning. As she had suspected Yasmin to be Sarah for some time, the  
truth was comforting rather than startling. She hadn't realized until  
she had found herself utterly unsurprised by the other woman's  
confession that she had thought of Yasmin as Sarah for quite some time.

"The Illusion Queen is the ruler of the Masquerade Court," she  
began, but Sarah waved her off distractedly. 

"Even children know that part, 'lise. What I want are specifics."

"It hasn't been fulfilled in my lifetime," Elise mused, racking her  
brain for the details of what most considered a fireside legend. "The  
last one became High Queen of the Underground." She smirked. "I'm  
fairly sure that Jareth is related to her."

"Ironic," Sarah commented. The two shared a smug look.

"Well, he'll be the judge. I hope you planned for that.  
Presentations do not have to be face-to-face, but the judge can do  
whatever he likes in terms of ceremony, so long as he is not  
disrespectful. It's really in the hands of the Goblin King." She gave  
an apologetic look to Sarah. "I'm sorry to tell you that."

"I guessed as much," Sarah said quietly. "I've planned for that as  
much as possible--Felicite is helping me with a few details, but I'm  
counting on Eglan to follow through for this to work."

Elise looked at her sharply. "Please don't tell me that he knows." 

Sarah's alarm reassured her. "Oh, no, Elise. Eglan is great fun, but  
I'd never tell him. No, I merely asked him for some favors, a few  
trinkets for his current lady prize."

The dispassionate tone in which she described her relationship  
prompted Elise to ask the second of her urgent questions that night,  
no matter how bad the timing. The need for this information was more  
important than the fractured feelings that might follow.

"Sarah...why are you using Eglan?"

Sarah took her time before replying, obviously composing her answer.  
"I enjoy his company, most of the time, and have enjoyed the  
privileges and invitations that being his escort offers. But at the  
same time, I chose him because I needed certain things I knew only  
someone like him could provide." She shrugged inelegantly, draped  
across the sofa. "After all, I couldn't very well ask Jareth for  
them, could I?" She fluttered her eyelashes coyly at Elise, her court  
personality suddenly at the forefront. It wasn't often that Sarah or  
Elise allowed themselves to act the spoiled courtier when alone with  
each other, but it usually never failed to amuse the observer.

Elise's lack of response eventually sunk in. 

"What's wrong with it?" Sarah asked stubbornly, "Isn't this what  
we've always done?"

"No," was the cold reply. "You're playing him, Sarah."

"I'm not," Sarah retorted, clearly digging in for a fight.

"You're using him, and he's not some pretty man to warm you at  
night. Eglan is a powerful Duke with connections to more kings than  
Jareth, and the right information to motivate them. If he realizes  
that you've been using him for sponsorship, it's not going to go over  
well."

"Then he won't know," was the petulant response.

Confronted with such arrogant and childish behavior, Elise lost her  
temper. "Listen, Sarah Williams," she said slowly.   
"You are the girl who beat the Labyrinth. When you end your  
relationship with Eglan, what happens afterwards if your plan  
succeeds will bring about the discovery of your identity. The moment  
that Eglan discovers this he'll realize that you used him as the last  
stepping-stone on your path to revenge."

She had Sarah's attention now, and used it. "Eglan's a proud man and  
won't be happy. There is no way you can extricate yourself now,  
succeed with your plan, and not have him as an enemy." 

"What do I do, Elise?"

Elise had her friend where she wanted, but it didn't give her the  
sense of satisfaction she had expected. "You end it as delicately as  
you can, and watch your back. Give him what he wants and be the  
pretty bauble to show to his friends and start clever conversations.  
Be prepared to give him hefty concessions to soothe him when you have  
that ability.

"But most of all, don't do this again. Don't tell me you've done it  
before, because I know you haven't. This is different."

Sarah's look of pain was enough to stop her monologue.

"I'm sorry," Sarah whispered to her angry friend. "I was so close to  
being ready...I thought it wouldn't matter. After all," she said,  
straightening a bit, "he thinks he's using me." She pulled her  
shoulders back haughtily, another glimmer of the hardened courtier  
showing through. "In fact, he's seeing at least one other woman. I  
thought it was fine because he was that type of man."

"It isn't," Elise said firmly. "But I still understand. I'd say that  
I'd forgive you..."

"...but then I'd be compelled to slap you," finished Sarah. She  
leaned over to hug Elise tightly for the third time that evening,  
pausing as she relaxed to read the hands of the large clock on the  
mantel.

"I have to meet Eglan for breakfast in a few hours," she confessed.  
"Can we discuss this tomorrow night?"

"Only if you promise not to stay out late just to avoid me, Sarah,"  
Elise said, giving her a menacing glare.

Abruptly, Sarah laughed, breaking the final shards of tension that  
had laced their words. "This all feels so right," she explained. "You  
finally call me Sarah, and that makes me feel like Sarah again. I was  
Yasmin for such a long time that I started to think that I would be  
her for the rest of my life. When you say my real name, I believe."  
She smiled shyly, a move that would have been astonishing on Yasmin  
only a few hours ago.

Elise smiled. "Goodnight, Sarah Williams. Pleasant dreams."

Sarah practically bounced into her room, leaving behind a misty-eyed  
older Fae staring into the dying firelight. Eventually, her thoughts  
turned from her friend to the subject of Sarah's plans.

_The Goblin King will never see it coming_, Elise thought with  
a dark smile.

He would soon regret his past mistakes. She remembered Sarah's  
long-ago fright, and shook her head. For that alone, she would see  
this plan succeed.

Jareth would soon regret forgetting Sarah Williams.


	5. Propositions

**Smoke and Mirrors**  
By Alison Harvey

Summary: Long ago, Sarah chose her dreams over Toby, a trap she came  
to regret. Now, as a member of the Masquerade Court, she plans an  
elaborate revenge against the Goblin King. At stake is the crown of  
the Illusion Queen, mistress of Masquerade...

Author's note: A J/S story. Many thanks to Arianne and Alorindanya,  
who tear my drafts apart and turn them into coherent chapters.

Special Chapter 5 note: I'd never thought writing could be hard  
until I was trying to juggle this semester's classes and this chapter.  
Chapter 5 is double the normal length in a sort of apology to  
readers for waiting so long. Thank you all for your reviews so far--  
every one has helped me write. Remember to review stories that you  
like!

Disclaimer: The characters and ideas of Labyrinth are the property  
of Jim Henson.

-------------

**Chapter 5: Propositions**

As his chestnut stallion neared the rendezvous, Eglan admired the  
land spread before him.

The clearing was surrounded by small copses of trees, their silver  
trunks arching towards the clear sky in defiance of the earth. On  
every graceful pale branch, deep red and white blossoms fought for  
space with blue-veined leaves still unfurling after the bitter  
winter. As he passed too near one cluster, a flurry of angry squawks  
and fluttering wings announced the angry flight of yellow songbirds,  
swirling around him in a stormcloud of beaks and wings before winging  
off in disdain. Sunlight filtered through the spring foliage, turning  
the ground into a patchwork of soft green and yellow.  


Eglan was of the Labyrinth Court, however, and certainly not some  
Summer or Crescent courtier who bowed to every tree and sang hymns  
to the birds. Far more interesting to him was the woman in the center  
of the clearing.

Yasmin leaned against the battered silver trunk of a venerable old  
forest giant, her yellow skirts spread out over the lush grass in a  
cloud of fabric. Her eyes were closed; asleep or resting, he  
could not tell. Nearby, the white mare he had lent her clipped grass  
peacefully, occasionally whisking its tail as insects came too close.   


Grinning, he stopped the horse's leisurely pace and dismounted  
quietly, leaving the horse to wander on its own until his call.  
Removing a few items from the panniers, he stayed in the shadows of  
the trees that circled the clearing, moving from one to the other  
until he crept up behind the one she rested against. He paused,  
admiring her creamy skin and the barest hint of freckles dusting what  
little of her chest her riding dress exposed.

He prepared to swoop down on the unsuspecting woman.

"I know you're there, Eglan," Yasmin said, her half-closed eyes,  
watching him lazily through thick lashes. "I heard hooves approaching  
a long time ago."

He grumbled good-naturedly as he settled himself beside her against  
the trunk of the ancient tree. She drew her knees up to her chest  
as she sat up straighter and smiled at him.

"You're late," she said, and he marveled that she could make even a  
chastisement seem sweet. She was nothing like the other woman who  
currently warmed his bed, a high-spirited woman who had spent long  
years posted in the Dwarven Realm away from her kind--and was twice  
as enthusiastic to compensate for her long-cold bed.

Yasmin was more the type to flutter her lashes and tease a man to  
distraction. He had earned very little from her so far, but  
curiously, it had not yet bothered him. On the days when he nearly  
washed his hands of her games, she would always let fall some astute  
comment or analysis that reminded him of the quick intelligence he  
found so intriguing. He had once preferred his women straightforward.  
Now he was beginning to understand the lure of the chase.  
Intelligence in a woman was a new and enticing for Eglan.

He wrapped a long arm around her, drawing her closer to kiss her  
cheek. "I know. Let me make it up to you."

She wriggled in his grasp until she had regained her distance. "It  
had better be good," she said, the corners of her mouth beginning to  
droop. "I need to leave soon. Elise and I have an invitation  
to supper, and I can't be late."

He was disappointed, and felt the beginnings of anger. "You  
promised me you would dine with me tonight, Yasmin."

She shrugged delicately. "I'm sorry. It came up at the last minute  
before I left, and if I refuse the Revels Count it could go badly for  
me in the court."

For a brief moment he wondered how Jacopo could have tired of his  
new bride so quickly, if he was inviting Yasmin over bare weeks after  
the wedding. The wife was lovely, he recalled, although he preferred  
Yasmin's type to the cool beauty of the Elven Court. Still, perhaps a  
quiet invitation would be in order, once the wife realized the  
behavior of her lord.

"Surely a dinner with me would be satisfactory in maintaining your  
standing," he suggested. Any plans for Jacopo's wife were still weeks  
in the making, and Yasmin was the woman who was here at the moment.

"If only," she said beguilingly, trailing a suggestive hand across  
his chest and tangling her fingers in the laces of his shirt. "You  
may be a duke, but you are not of Masquerade. Some might even view  
such an association as...disloyal."

She was right, although he took care not to admit it openly. "How  
then can I win back your favor, my lady?" His expression was  
carefully neutral. Irritated by her pending absence, he began to  
ponder whether or not Morganna had left his castle yet. Perhaps she  
could be persuaded to stay another night before returning to report  
to her liege.

Yasmin smiled winningly before folding her hands demurely in her  
lap. "Not tonight, but perhaps I can find the time tomorrow."

In response, Eglan pulled out the bag from where it had lain  
hidden behind the tree. Her eyes lit up expectantly, and her voice  
was low and husky when she spoke.

"Is that what I think it is?"

Eglan watched her with barely narrowed eyes, contemplating her  
eagerness. He had long guessed that Yasmin's goal was his land and  
title, but actual proof proved to be somewhat startling. It made him  
hesitate slightly before unveiling his surprise--the avarice in her  
eyes threw his plans into doubt for a brief moment.

He put down the bag, ignoring her resulting pout. Instead, he held  
out an empty hand and willed the trinket he had purchased and modified  
earlier to appear on his palm. She gasped satisfactorily.

"Eglan, it's beautiful."

She extended her hand and he slipped the wrought ring onto her  
pinky finger, allowing her to admire the way the sunlight caught the  
onyx gems that studded the woven gold threads. Her sudden delight and  
clear appreciation soothed his strange distrust of a moment ago.  
Eglan watched Yasmin hold the ring up to the light, eyes as  
calculating as any jeweler as she contemplated his sigil, and knew  
she had received the message.

Eglan was pleased with what he had managed to convey without a  
binding word or contract. The ring was not a guarantee of courtship,  
just a precursor, and so easy to dismiss if the decision proved  
wrong. Despite her attempts to keep him from more intimate contact,  
he was growing fond of Yasmin: he enjoyed her visits, would go to  
great lengths to see her happy, and saw a kindred grasping spirit  
that would do well allied to his own. His demands for a wife were  
slight. He wanted a trusted confidante, a beautiful woman on his arm  
who could play her part in future schemes. Her mortality was a small  
trifle compared with the fun they might have in the meantime...and  
when he strayed, Eglan suspected Yasmin would find her own sport  
with dry eyes.

She kissed him, a light brushing of lips, and her grey eyes were  
alight with happiness as she threw her arms around him. The sudden  
excess of contact disappointed him, ending as it did their long game  
of cat-and-mouse.

As if divining his thoughts, Yasmin abruptly drew back, looking at  
him with a measured gaze.

"Did you bring the others?"

He repressed a sigh, realizing how close he had been before she had  
remembered. He tossed the bag at her and tried not to be angry at how  
quickly she looked in and sifted her hands through the contents,  
laughing with pleasure.

"This will be perfect," she told him. "Felicite's birthday is soon  
and if I hurry I'll have just enough time to finish before Jacopo  
sends for me."

"And what about me?" he asked.

She smiled seductively. "We'll think of an appropriate reward over  
dinner tomorrow, perhaps."

He stretched and grinned, convinced once more of her devotion and  
her willingness to play the game. For a moment he regretted that Morganna  
would be the one in his chambers that evening.

"I'm sure we'll think of something," he said, not-quite-leering at  
her.

Yasmin curtsied prettily after she had stood up, a demure act that  
amused him. She was really quite good. "Could my lord then excuse me?"

As he lifted her into her sidesaddle and watched her make her  
goodbyes, he pondered the enigma that had intrigued him for so long.  
He was certain that Yasmin, tempted with lands and money, would be  
happy to be a Duchess surrounded by pretty toys. A wife would make  
him appear less threatening, which would allow him to redouble his  
efforts to make a fool of the Goblin King. He might entrust her with  
the keeping of some schemes once he had her firmly contracted and  
unable to sell her knowledge to a higher bidder.

Eglan believed in quid-pro-quo, preferably to his benefit. After  
what he had given her today, she had better offer something in return  
soon, he decided as he mounted his own horse. He galloped away,  
determined to catch Morganna before she could leave.

-----

Elise was already dressed when Sarah rushed in, looking slightly  
out of breath. She clutched a cloth sack in one hand tightly as she  
ran past the sitting room and into her chambers without closing the  
door. Elise stifled a laugh as she heard the soft cursing drifting  
through the rooms.

"Looking for the red silk?"

Sarah poked her head out the door. "Yes. What have you done with it?"

"You ran right past it," was the dry reply. "I put it out here so  
you wouldn't have to search through your closet, but I didn't expect  
you to be in such a hurry to hide the material."

Huffing, Sarah moved past her to where the dress was draped over  
the chair. She looked at it disdainfully and disappeared into her  
room. Scathing words could be heard dimly from the room, muffled from  
time to time by cloth. She emerged in her chemise, careless of  
modesty, only to grab the dark red silk irritably and retreat back  
into her room. Sarah reappeared at last to sit at Elise's vanity,  
ignoring her friend's look of infinite suffering.

Elise followed her and began lacing the sleeve ties over the belled  
sleeves of the chemise as Sarah brushed her red hair, deciding to  
leave it down for such a casual gathering. A touch of shimmering  
silver makeup above her eyes created the illusion of Fae blood  
satisfactorily, and although Elise raised her eyebrows at this new  
addition, she said nothing. A quick application of deep red lipstick  
completed the appropriate look, and Sarah saw Elise's decisive nod in  
the mirror signaling that she was as ready as she could be.

They had been in the sitting room for only a few minutes when they  
heard a knock on the door. A maid entered.

"Your pardon, Lady," she said respectfully to Elise. "The Revels  
Count has arrived and is waiting in the antechamber." She left  
quietly, the two women following.

Jacopo, Count of Revelia, was waiting as Sarah and Elise entered.  
The maid excusing herself to her duties and left, tossing a quick  
look over her shoulder at the count as she exited. Jacopo had propped  
his booted feet on a low table placed before the plush velvet  
armchair he had chosen. He stood up and kissed both extended hands  
elegantly, but with a certain careful regard for the redheaded woman.

"A pleasure," he said. "Now, if you'll gather near?"

"No carriage?" Elise was genuinely surprised at the young Count's  
generous offer.

He grinned, a subtle reminder of his younger age. "I'm Count now,  
remember?" He plucked at the golden chain that fastened his cloak.  
"It's not a problem anymore."

Both women moved closer, and within a moment the surroundings had  
flickered and changed to those of Jacopo's ancestral manor. Sarah  
looked around appreciatively, but said little as Jacopo and Elise  
chattered on the way to dinner.

She remained thoughtful through the salad of fresh greens, held her  
tongue during the soup and was noticeably quiet during the fierce  
political conversation held when the roast meat was served. Even  
Felicite's bawdy speculation concerning several of the older men of  
Masquerade failed to elicit a response from the usually vivacious  
woman, who instead contemplated the meat as she cut it into neat  
pieces. The other three filled in the conversational gaps delicately,  
working around her usual contributions.

When the last plates had been cleared and the four had removed to  
the salon to share an excellent aged brandy, Jacopo whispered  
something to his wife. She pulled a face, kissed him on the cheek,  
and excused herself. The moment she was gone, Jacopo confronted the  
long-silent woman.

"Yasmin, what's wrong?"

Elise snorted, relaxed. "Perhaps she's frightened by your lack of  
tact." The combination of good wine and food had loosened her tongue.

Jacopo was taken aback, and Sarah took advantage of his silence to  
speak. "Count, are you happy with Felicite?"

He shook his head in surprise before answering the question. "Of  
course I am. She everything I hoped for in a wife." Looking at the  
woman across from him, he stopped to rephrase. "That is, she and I  
are happy together, even if she wasn't necessarily my first choice."  
He paused again, slowing. "I would never have thought I would say  
this...but I'm glad it happened this way. I find you very attractive,  
Lady Yasmin, but you were right. Felicite and I work well together,  
and we care for each other. I'm not sure we would have been the same."

"Well-said," Sarah said lightly. She had winced slightly at the  
address, but had concealed it well. "Although I would tell you as a  
friend that you should guard your words more."

Elise broke in then. "What she means is that while your emotions  
serve you well, less honest courtiers could use them against you. You  
still need to learn whom you can trust. What if Lady Yasmin had been  
angry?"

Jacopo winced, but took the rebuke as the constructive criticism it  
had been intended as. Rather than retreating, he pressed further  
while the conversation was still open. "Yasmin, are you upset that I  
married Felicite?"

His boldness was much shrewder than Sarah had expected, and she let  
a smile cross her face. "Not at all. I believe things have worked for  
the best, and I am glad for your happiness."

Clearly relieved, he leaned back to take a sip of his brandy. "I'm  
still learning the rules of the game, and have been glad for both  
your advice, Yasmin, and yours, Lady Elise."

"Please, just Elise. We are friends." Having said that, she  
relinquished the discussion to Sarah.

"Do you remember what I told you the night I introduced you to  
Felicite, Jacopo?"

His eyes narrowed slightly. "I take it that you've come to collect  
your favor."

Pleased that he had grasped the essentials quickly, Sarah took a  
deep breath. "I want you to ask King Jareth to crown the Illusion  
Queen." She watched his expression freeze then pass from shock to  
suspicion, melt into amusement at the joke, then surprise when he  
realized from her and Elise's set jaws that they were not, in fact,  
playing some elaborate prank.

Finally he spoke, completely unsure of how to take the request.  
"Why?" he demanded.

Sarah's estimation of the young Count continued to grow. She had  
cultivated him as a friend because she recognized his potential and  
admired his honesty in a Court that professed deception as an art.  
The question he had asked proved that the time had been well-spent.

As planned, Elise spoke next. "Because we want to see a Queen of  
Masquerade once more."

"You mean that you want to choose the next queen yourself and  
influence her," he shot back, but Sarah could see he was not averse  
to the idea.

"Because I want revenge against Jareth," she offered quietly, and  
he looked at her, suddenly hostile.

"Why would I betray my liege?"

"Not that kind of revenge," Elise said sharply, breaking the  
growing tension. The angry glance she shot to Sarah was rebuke enough  
for her careless words. Chastened, Sarah kept her silence as Elise  
continued, seeking to turn the conversation back to safer ground.  
"Believe me, you can ask to open the search with a clear conscience.  
She does not seek to hurt him as you think."

"But why?" Jacopo said. "Why have you approached me to reopen this,  
of all things? Have you thought this through?" He stood up and began  
to pace about the room as the two women watched, stopping to rub at  
his forehead in dismay. "I don't see why," he said quietly. "I can  
understand wanting to influence the throne, but revenge? Something's  
missing." Suddenly, he turned to Sarah.

"It's you. I'm not sure what, but it makes no sense for you to be  
here otherwise. Elise could have simply come on your behalf." He  
looked at her accusingly.

Sarah looked at her glass, watching the play of light on the cut  
crystal. She raised her eyes to meet his, but said nothing. 

"She came with me," Elise said, "because she is Sarah Williams."

The revelation was too much for the bewildered man, and he sank  
immediately into the chair and drained his glass. Elise reached over  
and refilled it, which he gratefully accepted and gulped down.  
Finally reaching the bottom of the glass, he looked up once more,  
assessing Sarah carefully.

"That makes sense," he muttered. "If it's all a bit fantastic. The  
woman who beat the Labyrinth returns to seek revenge. And you want to  
do so by starting the search for the Illusion Queen. And since it must  
be a man, and a member of the Masquerade Court, it must be me. But..."

This time, Elise knew better than to add to his confusion. Sarah  
grimaced, and then began to speak. "Jacopo, I need your help to do  
this. No one else could propose it without being laughed at."

"I don't think even I can," he said, cradling his head in his hands  
and speaking to the floor. "Can't you ask for something else? This is  
not some little game. Jareth will have my head for this."

"Think, Jacopo," Sarah said, speaking with all the care she could  
muster. "Think of what I'm proposing and how you will benefit. The  
king can't hurt you for it--it's not within his right to punish you  
for this. I wouldn't ask if I thought it might hurt you."

She stopped, considering her next words. "Well, it wouldn't be fair  
if I didn't acknowledge that he will be displeased. You may lose  
favor in Labyrinth for some time...but can't you see how you benefit  
in the end? The last time I came to you with a strange idea, you  
didn't appreciate it. But now, can you see that I was right?"

He didn't move, but she knew she had gained a point.

"I wouldn't be asking you this if I didn't think I could offer you  
something in return. With the Illusion Queen directing the resources  
of Masquerade, think of how someone from Labyrinth could profit. You  
could have so much if this works."

"But only if it does," he said. Although he had not faced her again  
yet, he was clearly beginning to be convinced.

"You gambled on my proposition before," she reminded him, her voice  
hardening in stern reminder. "Jacopo, please take this chance. You  
owe me this favor. Your word and honor."

At this he raised his head, and she saw that amusement that had won  
out over hesitation. "Crazy as it is, I think that you and Elise will  
win this out...Sarah Williams." He shook his head. "And to think I  
nearly married you. _The_ Sarah."

"Don't let Felicite hear you say that," Sarah warned lightly. She let  
her relief show on her face. As it had when Elise had called her by her  
true name she felt happiness bubble up inside of her, breaking down old  
barriers. After years of planning it was finally beginning to come true.

"Then you'll ask tomorrow?"

A slow smile spread across Jacopo's face as he realized the date.  
"Yes, tomorrow--the night of the full moon. The petitioning night of  
the Goblin King."

The two satisfied faces across from him confirmed his suspicions.  
"You had this planned down to the very second, didn't you?"

It was a rhetorical question, but nonetheless their expressions  
again signaled the answer clearly. He grinned and filled each of the  
three glasses with brandy in turn from the delicate decanter. "To the  
Illusion Queen."

They toasted merrily.

"And now," he said, leaning forward conspiratorially. "You must  
tell me exactly what you have planned. I know your story, Sarah  
Williams--it was not so long ago. I approve of this method of  
revenge, as it will not cause me to break my oath. But if I am to go  
to the court tomorrow night, I must know all the details."

When they had finished telling him, he laughed long and heartily  
before calling for another toast. Three voices echoed in the cozy  
salon.

"To the Illusion Queen!"

-----

Far away, in the Goblin King's private study, Marcus was finishing  
a lengthy list of happenings within the bounds of the Labyrinth and  
the lesser Masquerade kingdom.

"...and a party of djinn have been making their way across the  
lands to the Crescent Court. They are staying with relatives in the  
Masquerade Court, but some will be lodging in the Goblin City."

"They are not, under any circumstance, to enter the castle proper.  
Explain the ward magic to them," Jareth said, pushing his hair back  
from his face carelessly.

"It will be done," Marcus said calmly. "Although they will no doubt  
want to know the reason why." He looked at Jareth carefully.

"They have no business knowing," Jareth said sharply, and Marcus  
let it drop.

"What more?" Jareth said after an awkward pause. "What minor  
fripperies of Masquerade await my attention this week?" He propped  
his boots on the edge of the dark ebonwood table as he leaned back,  
his hands behind his head. "Let me guess," he said dryly, his  
previous mood already forgotten. "There has been a fight between two  
courtiers over a third, or a duel concerning who shall host the next  
dance."

Marcus said nothing as Jareth chuckled to himself, fighting the  
urge to say what had been on his mind. Before his silence could grow  
noticeable, he picked up the last parchment with its neat summation  
of recent past events and began to read.

"Riallyn and Metis have made their peace," Marcus began in the  
style of his informal reports as advisor to the king: short, stripped  
of titles when necessary, and straight to the point.

Jareth interrupted, his lighthearted mood gone. "Riallyn, mother of  
that precocious Rhiannon. Wasn't there an altercation with Riallyn  
and Metis' husband? How did this come about?"

"Metis feels the weight of age," Marcus explained, "and seeks  
peace. She is weary of holding the vendetta and, in light of the  
friendship between their daughters, sought to end it before it could  
pass to the next generation."

Jareth nodded. "Keep an eye on them. It sounds plausible, but I  
suspect this truce was brokered by the two daughters. To announce it  
publicly means that they hope for some sort of concession as a reward  
for their humanitarian work."

"Rhiannon means to make herself more palatable for the marriage  
market, I suspect," offered Marcus.

Jareth smiled maliciously. "As I said, a precocious child. I  
believe she was the woman who tried to dance with you at the last  
Masquerade ball?"

Marcus could not quite repress a shudder. "Moving on," he said  
stiffly. "Due to the recent marriage of Jacopo and Felicite, the  
elves have decided to renegotiate their materials contract with  
Revelia a season earlier than previously. I believe they think  
Rebekah's daughter will sweeten their terms."

"An official envoy from Queen Eleanor, or simply merchants looking  
for their own independent sources with friendly ties to their people?"

"Both," Marcus said. "The Queen, of course, sought to ensure that  
they still have the finest quality ores from the mines. However, the  
jeweler's guild has asked for a contract supplying high quality gems  
on an annual basis for a local branch they recently established in  
Masquerade. The initial contract is for five years but depends on  
quality. I've done some calculations here, if you'd care to look at  
them."

Sitting up, Jareth leaned over to look at the careful columns of  
numbers, nodding in satisfaction. "Make sure Jacopo knows his good  
fortune was due to a casual conversation of mine," he said. "As I  
recall, this sort of merchandise is covered under the agreements of  
the yearly tithe. In an effort to promote growth, tell him I've  
decided that it should only be half the usual where the gems are  
concerned."

Marcus nodded, pleased. Any benefit to Felicite helped his family  
in turn. "A wedding present, sir?"

"Jacopo is loyal," Jareth said, "but has a large stake in seeing  
that his lands do well now that he is Count of Revels. Aram, as you  
recall, was far too stubborn to change from the live-off-the-land  
style the Counts have followed for centuries. Jacopo has some modern  
ideas about avoiding isolationism that can only benefit both him and  
Labyrinth as a whole. He needs encouragement, however." He looked at  
Marcus carefully, who took the expected hint. Felicite was his cousin-  
by-blood and therefore Revelia was within his personal sphere of  
influence. He would bring the subject up on his next visit and see  
how the young Count reacted to the idea.

"Before you discuss the next item," Jareth said, stretching,  
"answer me this: Why are the merchant elves in Masquerade instead of  
the Goblin City?"

"They followed the demand, I believe. I'll have someone look into  
it." Marcus said, making a note of the request. He looked up when  
finished. "Something in particular you'd like me to investigate?"

"No matter. It has occurred to me, however, that  
the usual cachet of spelled gems seems a bit too practical for the  
neighborhood. And a closer source would be convenient for us."

"Masquerade's lure as a market of luxury goods should not be  
overlooked," Marcus reminded the king. Jareth nodded absentmindedly,  
settling back in his chair and motioning for Marcus to continue.

"That was actually the last item," the advisor said, setting the  
parchment down. "However, there is one more recent alliance I'd like  
to discuss with you."

"Oh?" Jareth asked, raising his eyebrows. "Go on."

"Eglan of Labyrinth and Yasmin of Masquerade."

Much as Marcus had done when Rhiannon was named, Jareth shuddered.  
"I wish them the best of luck. That will no doubt fracture in a day,  
if both are fortunate. Although I must admit I am surprised. Eglan's  
taste is usually much better. And I know he is currently enjoying  
that Fire envoy--Morganna, I believe." He half-smiled in remembrance.  
"A delightful woman, if a bit empty-headed."

"You will recall, your majesty, that I warned you that some  
Masquerade women are less susceptible to your charms than others,"  
Marcus began tentatively, his voice strengthening as he saw he had  
Jareth's attention. "I have reason to believe that Yasmin was more  
than happy to avoid you at the last ball. Furthermore, my sources  
inform me that her quick association with Eglan was a reaction to  
you." He carefully explained what he had observed from the corners of  
the last ball, adding a few rumors from the gossip mill for good  
measure.

"So the chit did it deliberately?" Jareth asked smoothly. He tugged  
at a glove, a sign of his annoyance. "That's the first time I've  
seen it done so well in years, I must admit."

"I believe it is a serious matter, my lord. She has some reason to  
dislike you and has uncannily chosen the one Labyrinth courtier who  
might share her beliefs."

Jareth shrugged, dismissing his advisor's concerns. "So they are in  
the open. All the better."

Marcus frowned. "They could be a threat to you, Your Majesty. With  
your permission, I'd like to do some investigation into Yasmin's  
past. It appears that she is a drifter of some sort. She could  
possibly be the agent of another kingdom."

The Goblin King laughed. "And which courtier isn't? I believe,  
Marcus, that you give her far too much credit. The Masquerade Court  
has always attracted riffraff. That she has made it this far speaks  
of her ability to thrive, suggesting some worthiness. Although she  
did in fact deceive me," and here the Goblin King's smile slipped a  
fraction, "I doubt very much indeed we will have to worry about her.  
No doubt she played her anger into attracting Eglan. Now that she has  
her prize, she will have his attentions for a week and then Eglan will  
move on."

His eyes narrowed. "However, Marcus--if it appears to be more than  
a dalliance, inform me immediately. A mistress is a minor concern. A  
wife is a challenge.

Marcus thought of protesting the easy dismissal of Yasmin. In his  
opinion, she was equally as disturbing as the long-scheming Duke. He  
held his words, feeling the heavy weight of Jareth's consideration.  
"Understood, my lord. I will see you tonight at the Court."

He bowed and left, still mulling it over as he made his way to his  
chambers. Perhaps he had overreacted. Jareth certainly didn't think  
that Yasmin was the threat. And lest he consider that his king was  
simply less alert, his clear recognition of Eglan as a danger was  
reassuring. The message conveyed by Jareth earlier was clear: Yasmin  
was beneath the notice of the Goblin King.

As he entered his chambers he nodded to himself absentmindedly.  
Investigation was a waste of time and resources that he would rather  
use on Eglan, eternal thorn in the Goblin King's side. Yasmin struck  
him as an opportunist. As Jareth had shrewdly pointed out, Eglan  
would be tired of her within a week. It was nothing to worry about.

Marcus was a practical man with a gift for figures and a lesser  
talent for logic. Had he been born into a lesser family such skills  
would have made him a fine accountant. He was a capable counselor,  
but Jareth had promoted him to the position of chief advisor due more  
to trust than superior skill. He preferred logic to the sort of gut-  
instinct leaps that his liege practiced so frequently.

Nonetheless, as he considered Yasmin he could have sworn he felt a  
tug in his gut, which with more experience he might have called  
intuition. Shaking his head, already drawn into the heady swirl of  
profit margins and market yields, he ignored the feeling and sat down  
to his desk to finish his work.

------------

End note: Chapter 6 will be posted by the end of November. Promise.


End file.
